


Sealed With a Kiss

by McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: When a new piece of information regarding Snape's family history comes to light, Dumbledore decides to help give Fate a little nudge in Snape's favor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2002. This was written to fulfil the following Snape Fuh-Q Fest scenario challenge #70: Hermione's library research uncovers some hidden truths about Professor Snape.

The only reason Hermione kept the book stuffed under her mattress and pulled it out to read after everyone else in her room had gone to sleep was because of the cover illustration. She didn't want anyone to get the wrong impression simply because she was reading a book entitled _Happily Ever After: Tales of True Love Among Wizards_. The cover illustration was lurid and tasteless: a witch with cornflower blue eyes, golden curls flowing down to her waist, and heaving bosoms being swept off her feet by a dashing wizard who looked remarkably like a young Gilderoy Lockhart. Otherwise, it was a solid, informative history text.

And that, of course, was the only reason why she was reading it.

Most of the stories were accounts of events that had taken place centuries before, the witches and wizards involved being people Hermione had never heard of -- until she reached chapter thirteen.

It was all about Snape.

She was so startled at seeing a familiar name -- and _that_ name, of all names, and in a book such as this -- that she gasped loudly and nearly let the book fall from her hands, then glanced quickly around to make certain she hadn't woken anyone else in the dormitory.

Well, all right, she amended, it wasn't really about Snape himself, but his family. Fascinated by this unexpected new insight, she devoured the chapter eagerly, then went back and read it again, just to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

Closing the book, she set it on her nightstand and thought about what she'd read and its implications for the present-day Snape. She wondered if he knew about his own family history; moreover, she wondered if the Headmaster knew about this.

If he didn't, well, it was her duty to warn him that one of his staff was under a hereditary spell.

* * *

The day had been going well. It was Saturday, which meant Snape hadn't had to deal with any students -- especially not Potter and his friends -- which was pleasant. Since he had taken breakfast in his chambers rather than in the Great Hall, he'd managed to avoid human contact altogether so far. He had also been making progress on his latest experiment with a resolve-enhancing potion that, in theory, might help the drinker resist the effects of the Imperius Curse.

All in all, Snape was quite pleased with his day -- which, of course, meant things were about to take a nasty turn.

It began when the Headmaster appeared at his office door, rapping on the doorframe and beaming at him in the twinkly way he'd learnt meant he was about to hear something he probably wouldn't like.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Severus, but I'd like a word, if you have the time," Dumbledore said politely, and Snape resisted the urge to snarl.

He was tempted to claim that he'd just reached a most delicate stage in the brewing process and couldn't afford an interruption. However, he knew that would be a temporary delaying tactic at best. Whatever Dumbledore wanted wouldn't be put off forever, and Snape reconsiled himself to facing the inevitable.

Lowering the heat beneath his cauldron, Snape put the lid on it to let the experimental potion simmer for a while, then turned to face the Headmaster.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, trying to sound disinterested, but the words came out with an edge of annoyance anyway.

"I was wondering what you might happen to know about this." Albus held out a book, one with a garish, tasteless cover that made Snape's upper lip curl in an involuntary sneer just by looking at it.

"It's not mine," he snapped, and Dumbledore chuckled warmly.

"No, it's a book from the library. I was wondering if perhaps you had ever read it?"

Snape fixed Dumbledore with a look that said he wasn't going to condescend to answer such a ridiculous question.

"No?" Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow at him. "I don't suppose you've heard that your family is in it, then?"

For a split second, Snape's jaw unhinged, and he gaped at Dumbledore with pure, unmitigated shock -- and then the penny dropped.

"It's that damned spell!" he exclaimed, fury washing over him at the indignity of his family history being paraded about in print for the amusement of the uncouth masses. "That's it, isn't it? You've come to ask if it's true."

"Well, is it?"

"Yes," Snape ground out, teeth gritted.

Dumbledore perked up, visibly intrigued. "Really? Would you tell me about it? The text is quite... ehm... fanciful, and I'd like to hear your version of it."

Snape drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out again slowly, in order to keep from telling Dumbledore his own personal version of the story, which was peppered with obscenities and vitriolic commentary about his damnably stupid ancestors.

"According to our family history, the Muggle tale of Cyrano de Bergerac is, in fact, based on one of my ancestors," Snape began, his voice flat and dull. "Augustus Snape is alleged to have been an exceptionally unattractive man, possessed of all the attributes which have plagued our family: sallow skin, crooked teeth, hair that is prone to oiliness, and, of course, a prodigious nose."

"Some people might call it regal," Dumbledore supplied helpfully.

"Some people might be full of shit. It's not regal, it's not hawkish. It's big, and it's hooked." He paused, his silence daring Albus to contradict him, but he only got a peaceful smile in response. "Augustus was also in love with a beautiful woman. He was widely known as a charming, agreeable, and amiable man--"

That might have been a muffled snicker that Snape heard, but he chose to ignore it.

"--but despite this, he believed his lack of physical appeal would prevent him from winning the heart of the woman he loved. Thus he created a spell to help in his courtship. It was meant to enhance his skill as a lover so that he could impress her with his prowess, and to insure that his intended could look past what he perceived as his physical deficiencies and see his true nature. The spell was worked so well that not only did Augustus woo and win his beloved, but it was also so powerful that it affected their first-born child. It has affected one child in the Snape family in every generation since."

"What effects might these be?" Dumbledore asked in a manner that was too casual to be anything but affected.

Snape shot him a suspicious look, but continued his explanation. "Once every generation, a Snape will be born who has the same abilities that the original spell gave to Augustus: he or she will possess an uncanny ability to discern and fulfill his or her lover's sexual desires. The Snape in question will be found attractive despite his or her personal appearance by some people, but the Snape's true love will always find him or her attractive, especially after the first kiss, if not before. Indeed, an affected Snape's enhanced sexual skills can only be evoked by that Snape's true love."

"By means of a kiss!" Dumbledore exclaimed, and Snape's face contorted until he appeared as if he'd just stepped in something unpleasant.

"Yes. By means of a kiss." He could easily have been saying 'by prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse'. "The spell's effects will only work with the affected Snape's true love, and the Snape will remain chaste until he or she is kissed by his or her true love."

"I understand there's a way of knowing which Snape has been affected in each generation?" Again, the too-casual tone, and Snape narrowed his eyes as he watched the Headmaster, wondering what had brought on this sudden interest in his family history.

"Yes, there is." He tapped the side of his nose. "This is a dead give-away. The affected Snape will always resemble Augustus more than anyone else, especially in the size of his or her nose."

"So I think it's safe to assume we know whom the affected Snape for this generation is?" Those blue eyes were starting to twinkle in a way that was unnerving Snape.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, struck by the sudden, inexplicable feeling that he'd just doomed himself in some as-yet-unknown way.

"I don't suppose you've found your own true love yet, have you?"

Snape wondered, briefly, how much trouble he might get in for erasing his employer's memory.

"If you haven't, I've had the most wonderful idea for helping you find him or her," Dumbledore continued blithely. "Really, Severus, you can't expect your true love to find you down in this musty old dungeon. You have to get out once in a while and meet people."

Snape considered, briefly, using a blunt object to help erase said memory, rather than the standard memory charm.

"What if you've already met your true love right here at Hogwarts, and neither of you know it, because you rarely pull your nose out of your cauldron?"

If a plea of voluntary manslaughter on the grounds of provocation didn't work, perhaps claiming temporary insanity might.

"Thus I've devised a plan to help you discover whether your true love is right here, waiting for you." Dumbledore beamed proudly. "I'm going to arrange for all of the unmarried staff, and all 6th and 7th year pupils over the age of sixteen to gather in the Great Hall next Friday evening, and you'll kiss each one until you find your true love, or you've run out of possible candidates, whichever comes first."

"What in God's name makes you think I'd ever agree to that?" Snape blurted, all semblance of tact gone. He would _not_ be subjected to that kind of crass, public humiliation! He could already imagine the kind of gossip and sniggering that would go on behind his back, and there was nothing -- absolutely _nothing_ \-- Dumbledore could say or do to coerce him into it...

"If you do this, I'll tell you exactly how Sirius Black escaped from Hogwarts four years ago."

... except perhaps that.

For four years, the certainty that he'd been right -- that Potter had somehow engineered Black's escape -- had gnawed at him like a canker; even though Black had been exonerated by the Ministry and was, in fact, teaching Charms since Flitwick's retirement, Snape still wanted to _know_.

It didn't matter that the issue was dead and buried, and the information would be utterly worthless to use against Black. He wanted to _know_ that all the accusations leveled against him about being overwrought were wrong; he wanted to _know_ that he'd been deliberately lied to, just as he'd suspected all these years. He wanted Dumbledore to have to admit that yes, Snape had been right all along.

Snape stared at Dumbledore, who smiled back complacently.

"No wonder Voldemort is terrified of you."

"Nonsense, Severus, I'm simply seeing to the happiness and welfare of one of my staff," Albus said with a dismissive wave. "One who is long overdue for some happiness, in my estimation."

"I don't suppose it occurred to you that I might already be happy?" Snape folded his arms; he would agree to this, but he wouldn't be gracious about it. His family had left off trying to coax him into finding his true love and not wasting his "gift", but Snape fervently wished he hadn't been the one affected. The love of his life was research and potions; finding his so-called "true love" would only mean there would be someone underfoot to interrupt him -- someone to whom, with his enhanced abilities to please, he would be little more than a life-sized, warm sex toy.

"Alone? Sequestered down here all the time? Perpetually grumpy?" Dumbledore twinkled at him again. "At the very least, my dear boy, I think a nice shag would do you a world of good."

There was a scathing retort to be made in response to that, but for the life of him, Snape couldn't think of what it was at the moment.

* * *

Hermione was quiet on the way to the Great Hall for what the pupils had dubbed "The Kissing Booth" -- very, _very_ quiet. Beside her, Ron and Harry were grumbling, just as they had been since the Headmaster had made the announcement three days before, informing everyone that there was going to be a special event that Friday evening.

Apparently, she thought with growing misery, Professor Dumbledore had made finding Professor Snape's true love one of his pet projects, and he was dragging every eligible person at Hogwarts into it, whether they were willing or not -- including her!

"I can't believe Dumbledore really expects everyone to snog Snape," Harry said for the hundredth time.

"I just hope someone gets picked before he reaches us," Ron replied morosely. "Or if not, that he doesn't snog back."

They exchanged grimaces, and Hermione tried to make herself even smaller and less conspicuous, hoping that no one ever found out that she was the one who had brought the information about the spell Snape was under to Dumbledore's attention. She'd be lynched, for certain, and that was _after_ they tarred, feathered, and subjected her to a few hexes.

Besides, wasn't having to kiss Snape herself punishment enough?


	2. Chapter 2

The Great Hall was unusually quiet, to have so many people in it. Normally when this many teachers and pupils gathered, a low buzz of conversation permeated the room, punctuated by the occasional shout of laughter. But as Remus gazed out across the room from his place at the head table, he noticed that the sixth and seventh years seated at their House tables were murmuring to each other in hushed tones, if they spoke at all.

A glance at the Gryffindor table showed that Harry was talking to Ron, both of them scowling; Hermione, however, was one of the silent ones, and she looked rather pale and apprehensive.

Remus had to admit he had reservations about the evening's event himself. He'd scarcely been able to believe it when Albus made the announcement that Snape -- Snape! -- would be testing people to see if they could trigger the love spell he was under. Sirius had dissolved into uncontrollable laughter once they were away from the rest of the staff, but Remus had been too stunned to laugh.

Snape wanted to find his true love? That idea went against every slight understanding Remus thought he possessed about the man. Remus' celibacy was due to necessity, but he'd never once doubted that Snape's monk-like existence had been a conscious choice. He glanced down the table at Snape, thinking that for someone who was trying to find love, Snape didn't look terribly happy about it, and it made him wonder what was really going on.

Albus rose to his feet, jostling Remus out of his thoughts, and he directed his attention to the older wizard, who was looking over the crowd with a benevolent smile.

"Thank you all for coming," Albus began, and there was some shuffling of feet and squirming at that, since attendance had been more of an instruction than a request. "As I have explained previously, Professor Snape is the recipient of an hereditary spell, and we are gathered here tonight to conduct a test. We wish to discern if anyone here is capable of activating it. The means of doing so is simple: a single kiss will suffice. We will continue testing until the spell is activated, or we have exhausted our supply of eligible candidates."

Albus paused, then swept a stern gaze across the Hall. "Should a member of our staff be revealed as the chosen one, I expect that any further developments between you and Professor Snape be conducted with the dignity of your position in mind. Should the chosen one be a pupil, I expect you both to remember your current roles in each other's lives and refrain from inappropriate relations until after said pupil has left Hogwarts. But you will be given this weekend to... discuss the repercussions of this spell upon your lives," he added with a little waggle of his eyebrows that caused blushes to bloom on several cheeks and quite a few "oh, yuck's" to be muttered.

"Without further ado," Albus continued, gesturing to the stool which had been put on the dais in front of the head table, where the Sorting Hat usually was placed. "We will begin, starting with the head table and working our way across the room."

With a disdainful sniff, Snape stood, gathered his robes around him like a shield, and took a seat on the stool; with Snape's back facing the head table, Remus couldn't see his expression, but judging from the stiff set of his back and shoulders, Remus doubted Snape looked much like an enthusiastic lover awaiting the discovery of his beloved.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Albus asked politely, glancing around the head table.

Remus thought he could hear crickets chirping in the distance.

The silence grew more and more uncomfortable, until finally, Madam Hooch jumped up.

"Silly, spineless beggars, the lot of you!" she declared. "I'll do it first, if no one else will."

With that, she strode over to the stool, planted herself in front of Snape, grabbed his face between both hands, and kissed him soundly despite his muffled protests. When she released him at last, she was grinning wickedly, and Snape's face was flushed bright red.

"I want a rule!" he demanded, scowling at Hooch, whose grinned widened even more. "No tongues!"

"Very well," Albus replied amiably. "I think we can rule out Madam Hooch as a candidate. Next?"

Hagrid stepped forward next and planted a polite kiss on Snape's cheek with no effect, and then Trelawney floated over on a sea of gauze, mumbling something about destiny and the stars before giving Snape a dry peck that also had no effect except to make his scowl even more fierce.

Remus watched with interest, finding himself getting caught up in the anticipation of wondering if maybe -- just maybe -- someone would trigger the spell, and if so, whom it would be. It was fascinating in a train-wreck sort of way: the whole situation seemed like a Very Bad Idea, and he couldn't believe it was happening, but he couldn't look away, either. But his observation was interrupted by a sharp elbow in his ribs, and he turned a look of mild annoyance on Sirius.

"What?"

"You go next," Sirius prodded, and Remus cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Me? Why? You're closer. You should go next."

"I don't want to kiss Snape."

"You're not the only one," Remus pointed out. "Besides, the only way you can possibly avoid having to do it is if I'm the one who triggers the spell, and we both know the likelihood of _that_. You may as well go ahead and get it over with."

"Please, Remy?" Sirius turned wide puppy-dog eyes on him, and Remus groaned, damning Sirius for exploiting his weakness: he had great difficulty refusing anyone who looked sufficiently pitiful. "I'll buy you five bars of dark chocolate next time I'm at Honeyduke's."

"Make it ten."

"Done."

Sirius' tone was full of satisfaction, and Remus shook his head with an affectionately amused smile; this wasn't as great a hardship for him as it apparently was for Sirius. One quick buss, and it would be over. While kissing Snape wasn't high on his list of things he wanted to do in his lifetime, unlike Sirius, Remus didn't loathe Snape. His feelings for the man had always been of neutral disinterest until four years ago, when Snape had revealed his secret to the school; he was still a little angry about that. Not as angry as he had been, mind, but he found it more difficult to be as calm and polite to Snape as he had been the first time he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. Still, that was a far cry from the open, mutual antipathy Snape and Sirius exhibited towards one another.

Professor McGonagall returned to her seat after dropping a matronly kiss on Snape's forehead, and Remus decided now was as good a time as any. He stood up, smacked Sirius on the back of the head as he passed behind Sirius' chair, and approached the stool.

Snape looked dour, as if he wanted this to be over with as much as everyone else seemed to, and Remus once again found himself wondering what the real story behind this little event was.

"My turn," he said, feigning a lightness he didn't feel as he leaned over to kiss Snape's cheek.

One little peck, that's all, and it would be over. A split second was all it would take, and then--

And then his lips touched Snape's skin, and his entire world was thrown off-kilter.

He felt as if something were unfurling into full bloom between them, something that didn't feel new or unexpected, more like the feeling Remus got when he found an item he thought he'd misplaced, that "ah, _there_ it is, I was wondering where it had got to" feeling.

Somehow, the kiss slid from Snape's cheek to his lips. Remus wasn't certain who turned or moved or did whatever was necessary to seal their mouths together, but it happened, and through the "what the hell?" fog in his mind, he realised he was doing just what Hooch had done. His hands were holding Snape's head still while Remus took his mouth, and "taking" was the only way he could describe what he was doing, because there was nothing gentle or romantic about the way he'd latched on and started performing a tonsillectomy with his tongue.

The still-objective part of his mind was in shock at the sheer intensity of the kiss, and the way Snape was reacting to it, namely, _not_ shoving Remus away and hexing him into oblivion. No, Remus was certain those soft, needy sounds weren't coming from him... all right, _most_ of those soft, needy sounds weren't coming from him. Besides, the way Snape had parted his lips for Remus' invasion and parted his knees so that he could wrap his arms around Remus' waist and hold him close seemed to indicate that he wasn't as adverse to the idea of kissing Remus as one might have thought he would be.

It was the smattering of applause that brought Remus back to his senses, and he pulled away from Snape, reality crashing down on him in a sudden, horrified, "bloody fucking hell, what I have just done?" blunt trauma impact. Snape! He'd just kissed -- no, he'd just _ravished_ Snape in front of a goodly portion of Hogwarts' inhabitants without meaning or expecting to, which could only mean that _he_ was the one who had activated the spell.

Remus was Snape's true love.

That thought and the implications it carried with it made Remus feel ill. He didn't want this, didn't want the burden of being tied to Snape in any way, didn't want to be the recipient of feelings he couldn't possibly return. He glanced at Snape, who had been watching him ever since they broke the kiss, but Snape's expression was guarded, his dark eyes unreadable. Abruptly, Snape put his hands on Remus' shoulders, and Remus felt a surge of alarm that Snape was going to press unwanted advances on him, until Snape pushed, not quite hard enough to send him stumbling backwards, but hard enough to give him a "get out of the way" message.

As soon as Remus moved backwards, Snape stood, smoothed his robes, and cast a cold, disdainful look around the room until all the whispering and giggling ceased. Then he turned to face Albus, who was beaming proudly.

"The test is over," Snape announced in a lifeless voice, pitching the words loudly enough to carry throughout the Hall. "I've done as you asked, Headmaster, and now I believe it's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain."

Even as stunned and off-balance as he felt, Remus understood the situation better now. This test had been part of a trade, not something Snape had actually wanted to do. That explained Snape's reluctance.

"Of course, but..." Albus trailed off, sounding almost uncertain. "Wouldn't you like to have a word or two with Professor Lupin first? The enormity of what's happened--"

"It doesn't matter," Snape interrupted in that same flat tone. "The spell is working. I know exactly what the chosen one--" Remus could almost see the sneer that accompanied the words. "--wants from me." Snape glanced at Remus over his shoulder, and when he spoke again, his eyes were as empty as his voice. "Nothing." He turned back to Albus, his posture straight and proud. "Shall we adjourn to your office?"

"Yes... er... yes, I suppose we should."

As Albus and Snape exited through the side door near the head table, that seemed to be the cue for everyone else to stand up and begin chattering about what had happened. Most people cast uncertain looks at Remus, not seeming to know whether congratulations or condolences were in order. Remus let the crowd and conversation flow around him, feeling separate from it, as if all this had happened to someone else. It wasn't until Sirius dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder that he pulled himself out of his tumultuous thoughts and forced a watery smile.

"All things considered," Sirius said, his voice unusually subdued, "I think I'll make it twenty bars of chocolate."

"All things considered," Remus replied, sounding shaky even to himself, "I think I'll need them."

* * *

To say that the next two weeks were awkward, Remus thought as he headed down to the dungeon, would be rather like saying the sun was hot: it was a massive understatement, and didn't begin to cover the sheer enormity of the discomfort Remus had felt nearly every waking moment.

It was bad enough when Snape stopped taking his meals in the Great Hall with everyone else. During the first couple of days after The Test Debacle, Remus hadn't thought much about it; Snape usually made himself scarce on weekends, so it wasn't out of the ordinary behavior. But when Monday arrived and Snape didn't, then Remus knew there was something more going on, something along the lines of deliberate avoidance.

Still, he consoled himself with the thought that perhaps Snape wasn't avoiding him in particular, but the inevitable sniggering and gossip that was spreading through the school about them both. Remus had garnered his share of speculative looks and whispered comments as he walked the corridors. Snape was a private, dignified man, and Remus doubted this kind of public spectacle set well with him at all.

But when the full moon came, and, rather than delivering the wolfsbane potion himself as usual, Snape had a couple of house elves deliver a full three-day supply in a small, portable cauldron, Remus had to face the truth: Snape was avoiding _him_.

In addition, Albus had taken to looking at him with a mixture of sorrow and disappointment, which only made things far worse. Just one of those looks made him want to crawl under the table. To receive them every day at every meal was starting to make him feel he'd committed a crime worthy of being sent to Azkaban, despite the fact that he wasn't certain why he was being Looked At that way, except perhaps because Albus was hoping for some kind of fairy tale romance and blamed Remus for spoiling the happily ever after. But could Remus help it if the frog he'd kissed had remained a frog?

Still, this couldn't continue. Snape had to stop indulging in such petty behavior; Remus was back at Hogwarts, an unspoken reward for his "heroic actions" against Voldemort's forces, and he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. He enjoyed having a steady, full time job too well; Snape would have to face him again sometime, and now was as good a time as any.

Grimly determined, Remus shifted the now-empty cauldron to his left hand and knocked on the door of Snape's chambers with his right fist, then stood back and waited for a response.

Nothing.

 _All right, be that way_ , Remus thought with a quiet little growl. He pounded harder on the door and added a loud summons.

"Snape! I know you're in there! Open the damned door!"

Silence. A closed door.

Pulling out his wand, Remus tapped the knob and muttered, "Alohomora," pleased when the door swung open; at least Snape hadn't gone so far as to spell-lock the door against him. Storming inside, he glanced around the small, cozy parlor, expecting to see Snape sneering at him from some corner of the room, and he was surprised to find it empty. A fire crackled in the hearth, and a dinner tray rested untouched on the writing desk, but Snape himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Snape?" Remus called out, the surge of annoyance he'd felt when he thought Snape was deliberately ignoring him fading into uncertainty -- and transforming abruptly into embarrassed shock when Snape emerged from what had to be his bedroom wearing nothing but a dark green dressing-gown.

Snape's hair was wet -- not just damp, but wet enough to send thin rivulets of water wandering down his neck and chest before being absorbed into the fabric of the dressing-gown -- and he looked freshly scrubbed, as if he'd just stepped out of the bath.

Which would explain why he hadn't answered the door, Remus thought, feeling heat creeping into his face.

"I... ehm... I brought your cauldron back," Remus said at last, offering it to Snape, who crossed the room and took it, careful not to touch Remus.

"Thank you." Snape put the cauldron on his desk next to the dinner tray, then turned back to Remus, regarding him with a closed, neutral expression. "Was there something else?" he asked, when long moments passed and Remus made no move to leave.

"Yes, I wanted to speak with you about the last two weeks," Remus told him, shoving his hands in his pockets and resisting the urge to pace.

"What about them?" Snape's voice was cool, almost polite, and it was clear he had no intention of making this easy.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

Snape raised one eyebrow, his expression seeming to say the answer to that question should have been obvious to a two year old. "I've been giving you what you wanted."

"I never said--"

"You didn't have to say anything," he snapped, showing the first sign of strong emotion as anger flared in his eyes. "The spell is no longer dormant. A single touch tells me what you want from me, and it always will." He clenched his fists, visibly struggling to keep himself in check. "Whether you care to admit it or not, what you wanted most that night was to have nothing to do with me. You didn't need to say it aloud."

"I don't understand..." Remus raked both hands through his hair, confused by what little he knew about the spell. "How is this possible? The spell was supposed to identify your true love, yes?" Snape nodded curtly in response, and Remus shook his head with disbelief. "Then how can I be the right person? We don't love each other."

Snape ran his fingers idly along the rim of the cauldron, staring into its empty depths as if deep in thought for a moment, then he lifted his gaze to meet Remus'. "That doesn't matter. The spell is triggered not by the person whom I love or who loves me, but by the one person who is my best match. As my overly sentimental family would put it, my soul mate, the one who can... complete me. Our feelings for one another at the time are irrelevant."

Snape... his soul mate? Remus swallowed hard. What did it say about the state of his heart and soul that he could "complete" someone like Snape, and that Snape could "complete" him in return? No, this wasn't right. It couldn't possibly be right.

"This spell -- will it force me to love you?" he asked hoarsely.

Snape's mouth twisted in what might have been a grim smile. "Never fear, Lupin. The spell will have no effect on you in that respect. Its primary effect is on me, giving me the ability to know exactly how best to please you in matters of love and sex. The only effect on you that it may have is, if you allow it, it will help you see my true self."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can't hide from you." Snape released a weary sigh. "Which gives you a great deal of power over me that I'd prefer you didn't have." The sigh turned to an almost amused snort. "Better you than Black, I suppose." Suddenly, he lifted his chin and fixed Remus with an imperious look. "I assure you, Lupin, you are in no danger of developing any unwanted feelings for me, nor will you ever have to suffer the horrors of my presence, much less my touch. The spell and its effects are my burden to bear, not yours."

"You can't keep avoiding me as you have been," Remus said irritably, nettled by Snape's words. "Whether you like it or not, we're colleagues, and avoiding one another isn't a luxury either of us have. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop acting like a spoilt child and take your meals in the Hall again."

There was a moment of tense silence, and then Snape inclined his head slightly. "As you wish."

"Thank you," Remus replied and meant it; at least Albus would stop giving him The Look now.

If there was anything more to be said, Remus had no idea what it was. He was still reeling from the revelation that he was Snape's intended soul mate, and he needed to be alone to process that -- and repeatedly remind himself that the spell wasn't going to coerce him into falling in love. With a quiet good night, he let himself out and hurried back to his own chambers for a nice cup of tea to help calm him while he sorted through this increasingly tangled mess.

That night, he dreamt of bare, wet skin on a bed of green, and of lapping at droplets that weren't nearly enough to quench his thirst.

* * *

Once Snape began showing up for meals again, Albus did indeed stop giving Remus The Look until it became obvious that even though they were in the same room at the same time again, the tension between Remus and Snape hadn't diminished in the slightest. That was when Albus began dividing The Look equally between the two of them, although only Remus seemed to notice. Snape ignored everything except his food, and he left the table at the earliest opportunity without a word to anyone. If he felt the weight of Albus' gaze, he gave no indication.

Meanwhile, Remus was able to ignore Albus because he was busy looking at Snape. As the days since their discussion turned into weeks, he found himself drawn more and more to watch Snape, and he discovered that what Snape had said was true: he couldn't hide from Remus anymore. Where anyone else might see a cold, snarky bastard, Remus noticed the lines of tension in Snape's face and the emotion behind the mask in his eyes; he knew Snape felt trapped by the situation he found himself in and was coping by snatching back control over whatever he could. As if to compensate for Remus' unwelcome intrusion in his life, Snape was shutting everyone else out even more than usual.

Remus knew this, and it disconcerted him that he knew. He began to wonder if Snape had been telling the truth about the effects the spell would have on him. He also began to wonder why Snape had allowed the test to take place, given that Snape obviously hated the effects of the activated spell.

When he returned to the dungeon, he didn't rush to open the door himself this time, waiting instead for Snape to come to the door, which he did fully dressed, for which Remus was grateful.

"What do you want?" Snape didn't move to let Remus in, but when Remus stepped forward as if to push past him, Snape practically leapt out of the way to avoid physical contact; Remus felt a slight twinge of hurt, but given the parameters of the spell, he understood why Snape might not want to touch him.

"I have a few questions," Remus said, settling into a chair by the hearth to indicate that he had no intention of going anywhere for a while; Snape watched him with narrowed eyes, then reluctantly sat down across from him, his posture wary and guarded.

"Well?" Even his tone was cautious, and Remus found himself wanting to offer assurance that he didn't intend to harm Snape in any way.

"It's obvious you didn't want the spell to be activated, not with _me_ , anyway," Remus stated bluntly. "Whether there was someone else you preferred--"

"There wasn't." The words were soft, but Remus heard them nonetheless, and he was far more pleased by them than he was comfortable with.

"Still, you didn't want it, but you let Albus conduct the test. Why?"

Snape directed his gaze to a dark corner of the room, but Remus remained silent and waited; the little furrow of concentration between Snape's eyes told Remus that he wasn't avoiding the question, merely weighing his words carefully before he answered it.

"Albus learnt of the spell," Snape said at last, his deep, rich voice far softer and less acerbic than usual, "and he came to me, saying that he wanted to help me find my true love. He wanted me to be happy," he said, then released a disdainful snort. "His conscience must have been pricking him; he's never concerned himself with my happiness before."

"Why would Albus feel guilty?" Remus asked, curious by that cryptic remark.

"I've been a very useful tool," Snape answered, his tone icing over, but Remus could tell by the way Snape's focus turned inward that the coldness wasn't meant for him. "So this, I believe, was his way of 'rewarding' me. I refused. Then he offered a bargain. If I agreed to submit to the test, he would give me information I had long wanted... or thought I wanted."

"I hope it was worth it."

"No. It wasn't."

Unaccountably, Remus felt his throat close up, a knot forming in his stomach at the meaning behind Snape's words: Remus wasn't worth it. Despite he hadn't wanted this anymore than Snape had, he felt the sting of rejection.

"What in the world could you have wanted to know so badly?" he asked, trying to distract himself from this unsettling new feeling.

"That I was right: Potter helped Black escape from the school four years ago."

Remus blinked at him, certain he had heard wrong. "That's it? That's all you wanted to know?" He was astounded that Snape would risk so much for such a paltry bit of knowledge.

"You don't understand," he snapped. "It was more than just knowing how Black escaped, it was making Albus admit he'd lied, and that he'd deliberately made me look like a demented fool and undermined my authority in front of pupils in order to protect his golden child." He grimaced and added, "Golden children, I should say. Potter can do no wrong any more than Black ever could." His expression hardened, but Remus could see a hint of melancholy lurking deep in his eyes beneath the bitterness. "In the end, it was merely confirmation of what I already suspected: no matter what I do, it will never be good enough. I am a tool to be used when needed, and if I break, well... another will be found. _I_ am replaceable. His two precious Gryffindors are not."

"But I still don't understand why you agreed for nothing more than a little information, when you knew the effects the spell would have on you once it was activated."

Snape turned on him with a snarl. "How was I to know I'd end up bound to--"

Remus stiffened, knowing how that sentence was going to end even before Snape said the words: "bound to a monster."

"--someone who tried to kill me?"

As shocked as he was that Snape hadn't thrown his lycanthropy in his face, Remus still felt a rush of anger at the unjust accusation, and his own nerves were too frayed by all the sudden changes for him to swallow it this time.

"All right, that's enough!" he shouted, leveling an accusing finger at Snape. "I did _not_ try to kill you, you self-righteous bastard! If you want to wallow in self-pity, fine, but you're not going to use me to do it."

Remus fumed in silence for a moment as he struggled to calm down, a small part of him pleased by the surprise he saw in Snape's eyes. "Did you ever stop to think what would have happened to me if James hadn't shown up?" he continued, once the surge of wrath had passed. "At best, I would have made you the same kind of creature I am, a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, and you've never been that. At worst, I would have killed you and been executed myself, or sent to Azkaban. No matter how long I lived, I would have known there was innocent blood on my hands. Believe me, that's not the kind of 'prank' I'd agree to participate in."

In the glare-off that followed, Remus refused to flinch or back down, not when he was right, damn it, and not after years of being judged and condemned based on false assumptions. In the end, Snape looked away first, and Remus felt vindicated.

"Had I realised there was a real chance someone here would trigger the spell, I would not have agreed," Snape said, pointedly not looking at him. "But I had convinced myself that because I felt nothing for anyone of my acquaintance, the spell couldn't possibly be activated. I thought I was safe."

"You're still safe," Remus said soothingly, feeling an inexplicable need to offer comfort. "I won't ever do anything to embarrass you, and I don't want to hurt you--"

"That's not the point!" Snape growled, jumping up and standing behind his chair, as if using it as a shield, gripping it until his knuckles were white. "Before, I could focus on my work with no distractions, but now..." His fingers bit deeper into the chair's fabric. "Now, there's you. I'm aware of you in ways I wasn't before, like a constant prickle just beneath my skin, and it will never go away."

For the first time, Remus fully understood how helpless Snape felt in the grips of this hereditary spell. For two people in love, the effects of the spell would be little more than an extension of the normal desire to give to and please one's lover. But for Snape, who was not in love, and who was so fiercely independent, this had to feel more like a curse.

"But -- you can resist the spell, yes?" he asked hopefully. The thought of Snape -- of anyone -- being compelled to please someone because of the effects of a spell seemed little better than the effects of the Imperius Curse. "You don't _have_ to do anything just because you might know I want it, do you?"

"No." Snape shook his head, and Remus released a quiet sigh of relief. "Touching you lets me know what you want, but I'm not under any sort of geas to give it to you. If I... cared for you, the spell would enhance my desire to please as well as my ability to please, but if I have no desire, the spell will not create it within me."

"Good." Remus smiled wryly in response to Snape's quizzical look. "I know what it's like to live under a compulsion, and it's not a pleasant experience."

Snape nodded curtly. "I trust all your questions have been answered?" he asked, and even if Remus hadn't been able to read Snape far better than before, he would have recognised the blatant hint.

"Yes, thank you."

After offering a polite good night, Remus departed, his steps slow and heavy as he made his way back to his chambers, lost in thought. Some questions had been answered, yes, but still one remained: what were they going to do now?

* * *

Breaking a dark chocolate bar in half, Sirius handed Remus one of the pieces before dropping onto the sofa in a comfortable sprawl that said he was settling in for a while. Remus took the chocolate and eyed him warily, understanding how Snape must have felt a few nights prior when Remus had paid him that visit.

"Y'know, I've behaved remarkably well, if I do say so myself," Sirius said casually, then took a bite of chocolate; Remus set his piece aside, not feeling in the mood for sweets, or food in general, really. "Here you've been chosen as Snape's one true love, and I've not said a single disparaging word. I deserve a medal for keeping quiet."

"Any hope of you not breaking that silence?" Remus asked, only half-joking.

"Not really, no." Sirius bit off another piece of chocolate and let it melt in his mouth. "Not when you've been moping for weeks."

"Moping? I don't know what you mean."

"Moping," Sirius said firmly. "You're not yourself. You haven't been since that damned test, and I want to know why. Is the spell having some kind of effect on you?"

"No, no -- it doesn't affect me at all," Remus assured him. "Only Snape."

"Then what's going on?" Tossing the remains of his chocolate onto the tea table, Sirius fixed Remus with a stern look. "And don't tell me 'nothing', because I know better. You seem... sad, or lost, or..." He broke off, shaking his head with visible frustration. "I don't know what it is, but there's something different."

"You're not going to like it."

"If it's to do with Snape, that's a given. But I'm your friend, Remy, and I know you didn't ask for any of this," Sirius replied in a surprisingly gentle tone. "That you were the one to activate the spell was something beyond your ability to control. You've got to deal with the consequences, and I want to be there for you and help if I can."

"Don't tell me you're trying to play match-maker for me and Snape." Remus couldn't resist teasing, laughing at the instant grimace that appeared on Sirius' face.

"Good God, no!" Sirius exclaimed, waving both hands in a vehement denial. "I'm just saying if you need someone to talk to while you sort things out, I'll be here."

"But--" Snapping his mouth shut, Remus cut off what he almost said, knowing it would shock Sirius even more than it had shocked him to think it.

"But what?"

Remus shook his head, not wanting to admit that particular truth to Sirius; no matter how open and understanding Sirius said he would be, Remus felt certain his understanding would snap under the weight of this revelation.

"Reeeeemyyyyyyy..."

Oh, God, there it was -- the wheedling tone, accompanied by puppy eyes. The perfect combination to get Remus to do whatever Sirius wanted. But not this time!

"No, Sirius, I really don't want to discuss this right now."

Sirius rose to his feet, advancing on Remus with a wicked grin. "Ve haf vays of making you talk." He wiggled his fingers, and Remus' eyes widened with alarm.

"You wouldn't!" Remus leapt up and backed away, trying to put space between himself and Sirius, but Sirius closed the distance between them with two long strides.

"If that's what it takes!" Sirius exclaimed -- right before he pounced, knocking Remus to the floor and tickling him mercilessly.

Sirius' nimble fingers sought and found all Remus' vulnerable tickle spots, as if the memory of them had been stored in those relentless fingertips all these years. Crouched astride Remus' body, Sirius refused to let up, no matter how much Remus pleaded between panting giggles, and Remus writhed helplessly, trying and failing to worm free.

"No! Sirius -- please -- stop!" he gasped, but Sirius' hands were relentless.

"Not until you tell me what you were going to say," Sirius said, homing in on that especially ticklish spot along Remus' left side.

"I'll tell you! Promise!" He could barely speak, barely breathe, but he got the words out somehow. Sirius stopped tickling, but he didn't get up, keeping Remus pinned to the floor; Remus knew it was a preventative measure, in case he tried to back out of his promise.

"So tell me."

Lying sprawled beneath his best friend, who was looking far too pleased with himself, Remus laughed, struck by the absurdity of the situation -- and it felt indescribably good. A knot that had been steadily tightening ever since the night of the test began to unravel, and he relaxed for the first time in weeks. He wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed high levels of drama and tension in his life, and he needed a respite from the stress the unresolved situation between himself and Severus had created. A tickle fight wasn't his first choice of tension-relievers, but it had worked, nonetheless.

"Stop giggling and tell me the truth, Remy." Sirius poised his hands over Remus' vulnerable ribs again, and Remus shook his head vigourously.

"I'll talk!" he exclaimed. "It's just... you're really not going to like what I have to say."

Sirius' expression turned somber, and he lowered his hands to rest them on Remus' shoulders, not holding him down, but perhaps offering comfort. "Maybe I can already guess what it is: you're falling for Snape."

Remus gaped at him, stunned into silence for a moment, until his brain decided to re-open the connexion to his tongue. "What -- how --?"

"You've been looking at him a lot lately." Sirius tapped Remus' nose and smiled ruefully. "Believe me, watching you mooning over Snape hasn't been my idea of fun, but I've had time to adjust to the idea, so there'll be no angry tirades, and no retching. I can't stand the bastard, but I don't want to lose our friendship over him."

"Just because I look at him doesn't mean I'm falling for him," Remus protested, but it sounded weak and pathetic, even to him.

"True, but it's the way you're looking at him that gives you away."

Oh, God. Remus almost hated to ask, but he had to know. "How am I looking at him?"

"Like you're longing for him," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "And I don't just mean sexually, either. There's emotion in your eyes, and I've wondered if you knew just how much."

"It's not something I've cared to think about," Remus sighed, and Sirius rolled off him to stretch out on his side, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Maybe it's time you did," he suggested. "You need to sort this out, Remy. Otherwise you're going to remain just as miserable as you have been since the test, and that's not good for you. Figure out if it's just a passing fancy brought on because the test gave you ideas, or if this is the beginning of something more."

"You're right." Remus stacked his hands beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling. "I haven't wanted to examine my feelings too closely, because I'm not sure if they're even real, or if the spell caused them. Severus said that the spell wouldn't affect me, but it has. Obviously, there was potential for something between us, or I wouldn't have triggered the spell, and now it's awake in both of us. But I'm not sure these feelings would ever have awakened for either of us, if it hadn't been for the spell."

"What would have happened if Albus hadn't conducted the test? Snape's been a recluse all his life, and as far as I know, you weren't involved in any hot affairs either," Sirius pointed out. "So, thanks to the test, you don't have to be alone and celibate anymore -- if that's what you want."

Turning his head, Remus gave Sirius a long, measuring look. "Since when did you become the pragmatic one? I thought that was my role."

"Since you started going all swoony over Snape."

This time, it was Remus who pounced, and Sirius never even saw the tickle-attack coming.

* * *

"Severus, I'd like a word with you."

Remus cocked his head, listening. Albus' tone was calm, but there was an underlying note of disapproval; Remus wondered if Severus had done something to displease the Headmaster, or if this was to be a verbal extension of the Looks Albus had been giving them both. Pushing his chair back, he rose and followed Severus and Albus out of the Great Hall at a discreet distance, trying not to look as if he were following them while still remaining in earshot of their conversation.

"It's your attitude of late that concerns me," Albus was saying, and Remus scowled at that. What did the man expect, when Severus had had his life turned upside-down? "People have noticed you have been quite moody and withdrawn--"

"I was under the impression that people considered moody and withdrawn to be my natural state," Snape retorted acerbically.

"Not to this extent." Albus stopped in the corridor, regarding Snape sternly, and Remus hid behind a convenient suit of armor, listening. "Your behavior is quite beyond me, Severus. Instead of enjoying the happiness that's been offered, you've become even more reclusive."

"I fail to see what happiness has been offered." Snape's voice was frozen now, and Remus inwardly cringed; that level of iciness was never a good sign. "My so-called true love has been identified, nothing more, and that has caused more problems than it's worth."

"Have you even made an effort to find the good in this situation?"

Oh, now, _really_!

Before he was entirely aware of what he was doing, Remus marched towards the pair, bearing down on the Headmaster with a disapproving look of his own in full force.

"Albus, you're not being fair," he announced, pushing himself between Albus and Snape. "Severus and I have a difficult history, you know that. You can hardly expect him to be thrilled about what's happened."

For someone being reprimanded by one of his own employees, Albus was smiling as if he were all too pleased with himself. "It seems you've gained a loyal protector, Severus."

"It means nothing!" Severus exclaimed harshly, his robes billowing as he whirled and stalked away. "I don't need a protector, Lupin," he snarled over his shoulder, and Remus' patience abruptly ran out.

"You ungrateful son of a bitch," Remus growled as he ran to catch up with Snape. Grabbing double-handfuls of Snape's robes, he pushed Snape into a narrow side corridor, out of sight of prying eyes, and pinned him against the wall. "I was trying to help you!"

"I'd be a lot better off if everyone would stop trying to help and leave me the hell alone!" Snape shot back, defiant even when he was cornered. "I don't need Albus' interference in my life, and I don't need your help. I don't need you!"

A stinging retort hovered on Remus' lips, but it withered, unspoken, when he felt the air between them grow charged, not with anger, but with something just as heated. He felt Snape's chest beginning to rise and fall more quickly against his as Snape's breathing accelerated, felt his own heart beginning to pound harder, felt desire rise up within him, stronger than any he'd ever felt before.

"Perhaps not." Remus tightened his fists in Snape's robes and pressed against him, removing what slight amount of space remained between them. He felt the heat of Snape's body even through their clothes, felt a hardness that probably wasn't Snape's wand nudging him. "But what about wanting me?"

A slight tremor coursed through Snape and passed to Remus, and he fought the urge to push himself up and claim Snape's mouth then and there. That, he knew, would be a mistake; he didn't want to force Snape, or make him feel any more trapped by the situation than he already did.

"Tell me you don't want me to take you right here against the wall." Remus' voice was still a low growl, but the menace was gone, replaced by passion. "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

Snape glared down at him, breathing heavily, but he said nothing, and Remus' lips curved in a predatory smile.

"Come on, Severus. Just say it. 'I don't want you, Lupin. Let me go now'. Simple as that."

The glitter in Snape's eyes had nothing to do with anger, and Remus' smile turned feral as he released Snape's robes and framed Snape's face with both hands, drawing him down.

"Last chance to say no," he whispered against Snape's mouth. When he was met with only silence, he pulled Snape into a kiss, forcing his lips apart and swallowing the low groan Snape couldn't seem to hold back as Remus began a thorough exploration of Snape's mouth.

His fingers tightening in Snape's hair, Remus lost himself in the kiss, savoring every soft moan, every stroke of Snape's tongue against his, the pliant yielding of Snape's lips. It had been so long, but he couldn't remember anyone who had tasted as good as Snape. He could have stayed there just kissing all night, but his body was urging him for more, his need growing as he drowned in the taste and scent of his Severus.

Finally, he pulled away long enough to growl a question. "Your chambers or mine?"

"Mine are closer."

"Excellent point."

The walk to the dungeon was, quite possibly, the longest of Remus' life. That he felt hobbled by what seemed like the hardest erection he'd ever had throbbing in his trousers wasn't helping. Of course, they passed what had to be every one of his pupils, all of whom wanted to smile and say hello; Remus tried to muster a friendly greeting for each of them, profoundly grateful for his concealing robes.

At last, they reached Snape's private quarters; Snape unlocked the door and spell-locked it again once they were inside, then he turned to Remus, his dark eyes burning with a light Remus had never expected to see, especially not directed at him. Snape's robes slithered to the floor, and Remus watched them fall, scarcely aware that Snape had unfastened them.

Then Snape was kissing him hungrily, his hands reaching for Remus' trousers, by-passing all his other clothes, and Remus pulled free of this kiss with a gasp, trying to calm himself. It had been years... decades, really, since he'd done this, and now his desire for Snape was no mere burn, but a conflagration threatening to consume him. But he didn't want to give in, to pounce and to claim without care for his partner's needs, especially since the spell had made certain Snape remained chaste.

"Severus, wait -- we should slow down -- it's your first time--" Remus struggled to get the words out, hoping Snape couldn't know how much it cost to say them.

But Snape regarded Remus with a small, enigmatic smile playing at one corner of his mouth. "I know what you really want," he said in a low tone that wound itself around Remus' senses like a snare. "You don't want to make love, or have sex. You just want to fuck." Remus' body jerked, as if feeling the impact of Snape's words like a physical touch. "It's been too long, and you want it too much." Snape ran both hands up and down his chest in a languid caress, the bare skin of his hands standing out in stark contrast to the deep black of his jacket. "I want it, too."

Remus snapped.

Grabbing the lapels of Snape's jacket, he yanked hard, sending tiny black buttons flying through the air and skittering along the stone floor. Without bothering to push the jacket off Snape's shoulders, he grasped the starched white shirt beneath and sent its buttons flying as well, thrusting his hands beneath the fabric to reach the hot, naked flesh it hid. Baring Snape's torso to his greedy eyes, Remus took only a moment to look before he rubbed his cheek against Snape's skin, breathing in the warm musk that was Snape's unique scent.

But that wasn't enough; he needed to taste as well, and he began to lick, covering Snape's chest with broad swipes of his tongue, vaguely aware of and pleased by the gasps of pleasure he received when he lapped at Snape's nipples.

Still not enough. He needed more, needed to take, needed to be inside his Severus, to be joined with him. Herding Snape over to the hearth, he stopped when they stood next to one of the plush wingback chairs settled near the fireplace. His fingers were unusually clumsy as he fumbled with Snape's trousers, but he finally managed to get them unfastened and pulled down enough for what he wanted.

Remus pointed to the chair, and without having to ask any questions, Snape knelt, leaning on the seat of the chair for support as he presented himself to be taken. It took what little presence of mind Remus had left not to simply take what was offered then and there, with no preparation, but he couldn't do that, no matter how great his own need was. He swirled his forefinger in his mouth, wetting it thoroughly before easing it into Snape's body, seeking out the sensitive gland within and massaging it firmly, Snape's sharp cries fuelling his raging desire.

Quickly, he moved on to two fingers, scissoring them as Snape writhed beneath him -- and that was all he could take. He couldn't wait for Snape to adjust to three fingers; it had to be him, it had to be now. He spat into his palm and coated himself as best he could, guiding himself forward, pushing into that tight ring, pushing hard and deep until he was buried completely within Snape with one firm thrust.

Reaching around their joined bodies, he curled his fingers around Snape's prick, stroking it as he began to thrust, losing himself in sensation. Severus... his Severus... such heat surrounding him, sheathing him, a perfect fit, as if his body had been made expressly to join with Snape's. His rhythmic pumps grew faster, the slap of their sweat-slicked bodies grew louder, and Remus hurtled toward the elusive release, words flowing mindlessly from him as the pleasure spiraled higher.

"Want you so perfect need you so beautiful my own my love..."

He felt a spurt of wetness on his hand, heard Snape's cry of release. And he shattered -- spilling himself deep within Snape's body, slumping over Snape's back, feeling the hot, damp skin sliding against his -- reforming into something that wasn't quite his own anymore, but partially Snape's as well.

Once his heart had slowed from its triphammer pace and his breathing had returned almost to normal, he eased out of Snape, guilt and embarrassment flooding him as he realised exactly how carried away he'd gotten.

"Severus, I--"

Snape silenced him with a glare over one shoulder. "If you utter a single word of apology, I will rip your tongue out by its roots." Yanking his underpants and trousers up again, he sat down on the floor gingerly, leaning on one hip, and faced Remus. "We both wanted it this way. You can be the gentle seducer next time, but this time, we needed this."

"There's going to be a next time?" Remus blurted before he could censor himself, amazed that Snape would want to have a next time after the marked lack of finesse of their first time.

Snape sat back, his expression guarded. "If you like," he replied casually, and Remus nodded quickly, realising Snape had taken his words the wrong way.

"I want that very much," he said, relieved when Snape appeared to relax again. "This has all happened so quickly... so unexpectedly... I don't know what to say." He glanced away in confusion, but Snape reached out and lifted his chin; when their gazes met, Remus saw something else he hadn't expected to see in Snape's dark eyes, hidden behind the still-raw desire.

"Then don't say anything. Just touch me."

-end-


End file.
